The Battle For A Man's Heart
by Violets and Lilies
Summary: After several crimes are committed in the Lone Islands, the Pevensies must recall their governor for an explaination, but are they only inviting trouble closer to home? Based on the The Strange Case of Dr. Jekell and Mr. Hyde.
1. The Governor Arrives

A bitter northwest wind ripped through the countryside, from the Ettin mountains all the way to the coast. It slashed through trees, tore off limbs, and uprooted underbrush along its route, tossing them as if a giant angry child had lost its temper and decided to throw its toys across the room.

At the coast, the Eastern Sea churned with a violence no one alive could recall seeing before. Waves lashed at the cliffs that rimmed the harbor, then turned abruptly in the fickle wind, and drove, with the force of a battering ram, back out to sea.

The dark sky was nearly invisible, lost to a swilling mix of low clouds and the thick tracks of black smoke that belched from Cair Paravel's chimneys. Lighting flickered at regular intervals and thunder seemed to constantly rumble.

Amidst all this, four young people, their cloaks cinched tightly under their chins, stood in front of a small crowd of various Talking Animals and Beasts, watching a tall ship attempt to enter the harbor over rocks exposed by the low tide. Nearly everyone was hunched over in an attempt to stave off the chilling wind and sea spray that leapt from the ocean.

Peter, now twenty-three, stole a fleeting glance at the smoke billowing from the castle chimneys, and longed that he and the others might be able to enjoy the hot food and fires within. Then he turned back to watch the ship, burrowing his hands deeper into his woolen cloak, and sighed. He wished things hadn't needed to come to this.

Those "things" had started several weeks before. The tetrarch had begun to hear persistent rumors of a strange ape-man—so named because of his short squatty frame, long arms, and terrific strength—haunting residence of the Lone Islands. Then came reports that this Ape was committing horrible crimes against the population. The tetrarch sent more than a few inquiries to their governor, Lord Highland, an old friend since the beginning of their reign, but they were only further distressed when he didn't respond.

The first crime had been an attack against a young girl, the daughter of a shepherd on Felimath. The attack was brutal and only stopped when the Ape was confronted by the little girl's brother. Lord Highland had graciously paid for the necessary surgery, but afterward, the little girl could only walk a few steps without assistance. The second crime was the theft of an old widow's family heirlooms, her most prized positions. Thankfully, the widow had been asleep at the time of the theft, and was not harmed. The heirlooms were recovered and returned to the widow several days later by a page sent from the governor's residence.

The third was the slaughter of a horse belonging to one of the islands' many merchants. Graciously, Lord Highland had immediately sent one of his own colts to the man as a replacement. The fourth was, thankfully, only a sighting—the Ape was seen prowling around the bushes of the governor's residence, but alert citizens had contacted security officials and the Ape had run off, but no one doubted that he had been intent on harming the governor that night.

Finally, Peter, after several days of quietly arguing with Edmund, decided to recall the governor for an explanation.

Now, in the midst of this bitter storm, the High King looked over at his younger brother—his right hand man—with a content smile. Edmund, now eighteen, was standing as straight as was humanly possible, his ice-blue eyes were trained, with what seem like deadly focus, on the tall ship as it was battered against the rocks, but Peter knew that Edmund's gaze was all-encompassing. He would not miss a single eddy, whirlpool, or rip current.

While Peter had, more than anything, wished to trust their old friend's judgment in apprehending the Ape—after all, he was a man of outstanding reputation the world over, and nearly a grandfather to the young monarchs. If you can't trust your grandfather, who can you trust? But, his younger brother had repeatedly argued that they, the kings and queens, would lose faith with their subjects, and other countries, if they didn't require their appointed governor to answer their inquires, if they didn't do everything humanly possible to make certain the menace was caught. He argued that it was _their_ reputations on the line, if their man was not accountable.

Peter turned towards his other side, but immediately shielded his eyes as sea spray suddenly hit his face. As his vision cleared, his lips were curled upward at the sight of his two sisters.

Lucy, at fifteen, was standing as close to the wharf as Susan's grip would allow. Her golden head was tucked against her chest and her slim shoulders were hunched. She was forced to, near continually, blink and wipe her face, as her proximity to the water had her taking a salty bath whenever the ocean pleased to send up a wave.

Her cloak was soaked and sticking to her like a second skin, making Peter scowl a bit; he'd never been in favor of letting his siblings get sick, but he knew well enough that she wasn't going inside. One hand was clenched under her cloak, and Peter's sharp eyes noticed the tiny diamond bottle that had been her first Christmas gift in Narnia—of course, he thought, she's anxious to help with any possible injuries this storm as given the governor's company and crew.

Behind Lucy, Susan, now twenty-one, stood rigid, shielding her little sister from the brunt of the wind—she couldn't do much about the baths Lucy was taking, but she would do her best to protect her from the bitter wind. Peter noticed that her cloak's hood had been ripped partially off her head, but she was too fixated on holding Lucy to take notice. Her raven hair was slowly coming out of its tie to blow raggedly about. He bit his lip and shook his head grimly. His sisters were a stubborn lot—it might be best if he turned back to watching the ship instead of fretting over things that he had little, if any, ability to control.

To his great relief, the ship had cleared the rocky entrance to the harbor and was progressing quickly towards the wharf. Sailors were already appearing over the edge, with ropes in hand to tie their vessel off. Lucy would be held no longer. She darted forward at a run and would have ended up in the black churning sea if a stout grip had not wrapped itself around her small shoulder, just in time.

"Watch it, Lu." Edmund growled, then he pulled her close to whispered in her ear, "After all, you're not properly dressed for a swim." The next moment he wondered how Lucy's smile could be so brilliant on such a night as this.

"You alright, Lu?" Peter had an amused smile on his face, as he and Susan peered over Edmund's shoulder at her. He could see perfectly well that she was just fine. Susan opted to not say anything, but let Peter talk for them both. Lucy gave the older two another blast of sunshine and Susan was pacified.

In the next minute, sailors were tossing ropes down, and the boys, alongside several Beasts, got to work tying the ship off.

"Is there anyone badly hurt on board," Lucy shouted to be heard over the roaring wind and bustling wharf.

"Nay, your majesty," a young sailor said as he saluted her, "Aslan had mercy on us in this foul weather."

She smiled up at him and nodded her thanks before carefully scurrying to help Susan pull some of luggage out of the way of company descending the gangway. Not long after, Lord Highland was stepping down onto the pier with a rueful smile on his face.

"I'm sorry to make you all wait up in this nasty bit of weather we're having," he said, as he reached out his big hands to hug each of them.

The next few minutes were taken up with warm greetings and welcomes, but finally, all that was set aside in favor of getting everyone inside.

"Come, my lord," Susan said, as she stooped to hoist a fairly small wooden crate, intricately carved with flowers and dancing fauns, "There's hot food and warm beds awaiting us. All that needs doing is to get your luggage inside."

"No, Susan." Lord Highland gently took the trunk from her, "Not this one, my dear. Let me take this one."

Susan was baffled—the trunk was far from being too large, "I don't understand, my lord—I'd like help," she countered in a quiet, but firm voice, "There are far bigger ones that you can manage better then I."

"Please, Susan, leave that one alone."

Susan opened her mouth again—in her five years of being queen, no one had had ever rebuffed her offer to help more than once—but Lucy's voice stopped her.

"Why, hello!" the younger queen had set aside the bit of luggage she'd been carrying, to hold out a hand in friendship to a young boy, who was peering out from behind some of the governor's staff. He shrunk back, shy in front of the pretty girl with such an eager smile. Peter and Edmund also stopped shoving large trunks and turned to see what their youngest sister was up too.

"Who's this, my lord?" Lucy asked.

"Inside, Lucy, inside—out of this foul storm, and then I'll tell you a bit about Gawain, that's the lad's name. He's my new page—just took him on just a few weeks ago."

Lord Highland pulled Gawain out from the midst of staffers and trunks. For an instant, a look of revulsion crossed the boy's face as the governor's big hand closed around his shoulder, but it was quickly replaced by astonishment, when he was set down in front of the smiling tetrarch.

"It's never good policy to shrink away from your kings and queens, my boy," Lord Highland admonished, "You know better—greet them properly." Gawain did so, and was rewarded by the tetrarch immediate liking.

* * *

Some hours later, Susan and Lucy slowly trekked up the hidden staircase that led from the throne room to just outside the wing that held their four bedrooms. Everyone else, save a few of the staff, had already retired.

"I imagine, I look a fright," Lucy muttered tiredly, as she staring glumly down at her dress.

"No worse than I," Susan replied, eyeing her sister, "although, I daresay, your Myrrh will have a fit."

Lucy shook her head. Her Dryad lady-in-waiting was always on an even keel, "Myrrh is used to my activities."

"It's _your _Nary, who will blow her top, dear sister," she continued, speaking of Susan's, often turbulent Naiad lady-in-waiting.

"Someone had to keep you from swimming out to meet the ship," Susan teased, then grew more serious, "I'm more than capable of handling Nary."

They were quiet for a few steps, but then Lucy's lips were tugged upward at another memory.

"Poor Gawain—I thought he was going to melt into the floor when Edmund asked he'd like to go horseback riding once all our duties have been seen too." She shook her head, "I can't imagine being so painfully shy."

Susan didn't hold back a chuckle, but she managed a diplomatic answer, "Perhaps he's never ridden before."

They reached the top of the staircase and Susan pressed against a particular brick to slide the false wall back and reveal the hallway to the royal chambers and a rather startled faun, who had nodded off while standing guard.

"Y-your majesties," he stumbled for words as he threw up an impromptu salute.

The queens gave him a smile as they stepped into the fully lit hallway and Lucy reached up to pulled the ribbon from her hair, and shook her head to free her golden curls from their sodden mold. Droplets, looking like sparks of fire, as they caught the light of the chandelier, rained in all directions. Susan held up a hand, as if to defend herself from the bath, but really only to conceal her smile.

"Really Lu," she teased, "Aren't I wet enough?"

Lucy ignored the comment as they had reached her door, but as she sleepily turned the knob, she felt Susan hand on her shoulder—she turned back inquiringly.

Susan smiled and kissed her cheek, "My dear sister, I not about to let you go to bed without saying goodnight to me."

Lucy willingly put her arms around her sister and returned her kiss on the cheek, "I'm sorry, Su. I'm so tired; I must have forgotten myself for an instant."

"Ah, but we have an early rise tomorrow, remember."

"Yes, I know—goodness knows, we should all be used to late nights and early rises by now; we've been here five years—and I _am_ glad that Lord Highland is here, so we can get this dreadful Ape business settled...or on the way to being settled."

With that, Lucy gave her sister a final squeeze on the shoulder, and slipped into her bedroom. Myrrh was waiting, Lucy was too exhausted to say anything as her lady-in-waiting's arms rustled in distress, just like a tree's branches might, at the sight of her. The queen sank into a chair as the dryad began to gently comb the knotted mass of gold. In no time, Lucy was asleep.

*~0~*

Meanwhile, on the first floor of the castle, Lord Highland had prepared for bed. He was weary from the trip, but his restless mind kept him from sleep, so he anxiously paced the floor. He couldn't stop thinking about _him_. He had this nearly overwhelming desire...but, no, he must control it. With each step, he grew more frustrated…why did _he_ want need to come here, of all places? He couldn't let his dear friends find out. What would they think of him? No, he must always have control of _him_.

A small knock sounded from the outside and Lord Highland ripped the door open.

"It's about time, boy," he growled, as Gawain entered with a service tray laden with tea and crackers, "If you're ever going to make a proper knight one day, you'll have to learn to follow instructions in a timely manner."

He looked the tray over and scowled, "and follow instructions to the letter—I didn't ask for crackers."

Gawain coward, fear had finally taken over disgust as the dominate expression on his face, "I-I-I'm s-sorry, sir—the Beaver in the kitchen said I had to bring them. She said that you couldn't have tea without something to eat as long as you were in this house."

Lord Highland sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and wiped his large hands across his face, as if in defeat, "Well, alright, then." He looked the tray over for a minute, then dug into the food and drink with greedy desire and waved a hand to dismiss the young boy—then thought better of it.

"Wait a minute, boy."

Gawain turned—he really wished he were somewhere else.

"I hope you know how to control your tongue when Edmund has you out on the horse—I don't think you can control yourself as well as I can.

A sudden flash of anger made Gawain brave, "_Control_, eh? You're one to talk about _control_! Well, you sure showed a lot of control when you hurt my sister! I _saw_ you." Hot tears began to streak down his face.

In a flash, Lord Highland knelt beside the boy, his big hand over Gawain's mouth, "Hush boy—control yourself," he hissed, "Don't wake everyone with a fit. A knight must always have control of himself."

He slowly relaxed his grip, but did not release. "As for your sister…that wasn't me—that was _him_. _Remember_? And I took care of what _he_ did—_remember_?

Gawain nodded, in the big man's grip, he was suddenly afraid again.

"Good lad," Lord Highland smacked him on the back, "that's a good lad—now go on and get some sleep, my boy."

After, Gawain left, Lord Highland remained on his knees and wiped his hand over his face with a groaned. Food and drink had not calmed the restlessness inside him—_he_ was stirring. It had been easy enough to ignore _him_ while there was a storm at sea, but now, with only a warm bed and his own thoughts to look forward too, Lord Highland sensed _him_ calling.

"I'm a strong man," the Governor whispered to himself, "_You_ can't beat me. _I'm_ in control."

He rose and moved quickly to the back of the room, where his luggage had been stored. He searched, like a man possessed, for a few minutes until he came upon it—a fairly small wooden crate, intricately carved with flowers and dancing fauns. He held his breath as he slowly unlatched it and moved aside several wooly blankets to reveal a small unadorned wooden box. Inside were glass bottles—some held a red liquid, others held a green liquid. He opened one with green and swallowed the contents in one gulp.

"Ah, that's better," he said, sinking to his knees with a relieved sigh. No, his dear friends would not be meeting _him_ tonight—or any night. No, he had control.


	2. Investigations Part 1

The sun had not yet risen over the Eastern Sea, but the three youngest Pevensies had already gathered in the small room that connected their four royal bedrooms. It was the tetrarchs' practice to meet here at least once a week, but more often when possible, to discuss their goings on and hash out problems or difficulties they were having. They all welcomed this time, as it was rare to catch all four in one place at one time.

Susan had gotten up before the others and made her way to the kitchens to brew coffee for their early meeting. She now sat on one of the two coaches, hair loose and silky as a raven's feather and tucked behind her ear, pouring cups for each of them. Lucy sat in a chair in the corner, her golden locks cascading down her back, absorbed in the knitting socks for young Corin's birthday, which was coming up. Edmund slouched on the other couch, facing Susan, across the coffee table; one arm stretched along the back of the coach, his fingers drumming, and a scowl on his face.

"You'd think Sleeping Beauty would be up by now," he fused, "He knows we're meeting today." He sat still for another moment before launching himself up and grabbing the nearest pillow, "I say we ambush him. " Just before he reached the door to Peter's room, he looked back at his to potential accomplices—neither of whom appeared willing to help him. He frowned, "You two coming? Lazy bones needs some help getting up."

Lucy finally looked up from her knitting, "What?"

Susan continued filling their cups, "Sit down, Ed. I saw Peter downstairs while I was brewing coffee. He was waiting to speak with Aquila."

Edmund looked curious, "The Eagle?"

"Yes, he wanted him to gather his brothers and fly out across Narnia and get a sense of how much damage the storm did last night. I'm sure he'll be here any minute."

Edmund tossed the pillow back to the coach, flopped down, and ran a hand through his wavy auburn hair, "Nice of you to mention that before I got to the door."

Susan smirked.

The door opened a crack and the High King slipped through, noiselessly shutting it behind him. He ran a tired hand through his tousled brown hair.

"The High King graces us with his presence," Edmund threw up a mock salute.

Peter broke into a grin and gave a couple mock bows, "Thank you, thank you."

He accepted a cup and saucer from Susan and took a sip.

"_Phew_, what is this, Su?" he asked aghast, and only with great effort managed to shallow, "Oh foul, stuff—what is it?"

"Coffee."

Peter scowled at his cup, "Tastes more like muddy water and pine pitch. Where'd you—oh no, not that stuff the Black Dwarves gave you after you helped them meditate their trade deal with the Centaurs."

Susan smiled innocently, "Well actually…"

Peter set his cup and saucer down hard, "I think I'll wait for breakfast." He stifled a yawn.

Susan handed the coffee out to the younger two, neither of whom looked extremely happy to accept. Susan had grown fond of strong black coffee during their reign but the others, not so much. Edmund, who didn't mind strong drinks, drank his slowly, pausing to grimace every couple of sips. Lucy quietly choked hers down with her noise wrinkled against the smell.

Peter sat down next to Susan, pushing his cup and saucer to the middle of the table, and Lucy moved to sit across from him, next to Edmund. The three younger siblings waited for Peter to talk.

"I spoke with Aquila this morning—told him to gather his brothers and fly—"

"Across Narnia to check for damage and report back," Edmund finished to a surprised Peter, "Susan was kind enough to fill us in."

Susan smirked again.

Peter looked back and forth between the two, wondering what he'd missed, then shrugged and continued on, "Well, anyway, I think it's the fastest way we'll get reports from the farthest reaches of our realm—I'm hoping they can get back to us before it gets too dark tonight, and in the meantime, there's quite a bit to be cleaned up around here. The courtyards are a sight—then there are the barns, mews, balconies, the orchard and—sorry Su, but your gardens…"

"Oh, no!" Susan moaned, head in her hands for a moment, before she regained composure and said in a more matter-of-fact tone, "Well, I suppose shouldn't be surprised—nothing else was spared, why should the gardens go undamaged?"

Peter continued, "I think it's reasonable to suspect that Lord Highland's ship took a beating in the storm and needs repairs, but I've no report on that yet. I'll leave those inspections to his crew, and I trust that we'll be able to supply what's needed for repairs."

The others nodded in agreement.

Peter rubbed his hands across his face again and sighed, "I'm hoping—with everybody's help—that we can cut a big dent in the repairs by early afternoon, and then get things cleared up quickly with the governor, and have time for a nice dinner before the Eagles get in."

He nodded towards Edmund, "Sorry, brother, I'm not sure you'll be on horseback with Gawain today."

Edmund waved his hand, "We'll live—I hope he's not disappointed though." He paused for a moment thinking, "Of course, after his reaction last night—_hey_!"

Lucy smacked him with the pillow sitting next to her, "Oh, do stop it! The poor boy is shy."

Peter allowed himself a small smile at his youngest siblings impromptu pillow fight, but then called their attention back to business, "Is there anything else before we go to breakfast?" He scowled at his teacup and saucer.

No one knew of anything else that needed discussing. They were all eager to get the day started.

"Then to breakfast," Peter clapped his hands together and eagerly bounced off the couch.

He was first to the door and held it open for Susan, then Lucy, and Edmund bringing up the rear. As Susan got to the doorway, she paused to catch her older brother's eye.

"Peter, be a dear and grab the cream and sugar that I hid behind those pillows over there." She pointed to a pile in the corner.

Peter looked stunned, "What?" His eyes started getting bigger, "_cream_..._sugar_?"

Lucy turned to share a wide-eyed look with Edmund.

Three voices chorused together, "SUSAN!"

The elder queen took that split second of surprise to breeze through the open door and tear down the hall at top speed, using one hand to muffle her laughter and the other to hike her skirts as she took to the stairs. The other three followed in hot pursuit.

* * *

"Good morning, my lord," a bright voice called from the ground, as Lord Highland worked to nail a fallen piece of trellis to the high castle wall, "I missed you at breakfast this morning."

The next moment, Lucy's ladder bumped the side of the wall and the young queen bounced lightly up the steps, her hair dancing with her movement.

"Yes, well, you know me, Lucy," the governor looked warily at her out of the corner of his eye, "I wanted to get a jump on setting things straight around here."

Lucy was probably the last person that he wanted to hang around right now. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy her, quite the contrary, he loved Lucy. It was just that she made him feel exposed—as if a giant lantern had entered a very dark room, and everyone suddenly realized that the room was filthy. Lucy's very nature radiated light, and, right now, Lord Highland preferred the darkness. He felt safe in the dark.

"You don't mind if I work with you, do you?" Lucy asked, as she pulled a hammer and a few nails out of the tool belt strapped around her slim waist. Of course, Lord Highland didn't mind if she worked beside him.

Well, actually, he really wished she would work beside someone else today. "No, you know I don't Lucy," he said, keeping his head turned, avoiding eyes.

"Did you manage to get some sleep last night? I'm sure you were tired after your voyage, but don't storms have a way of getting your blood pumping, and then when you're back on dry land, it's hard to relax?"

"I slept fine, thank you, Lucy," he said quietly, still avoiding her eyes. His heart was hammering—he wished she wouldn't speak to him. He felt like he didn't have control over the situation and that made him almost panicky.

The worked for a minute or two in silence, then the governor flinched with surprise, as Lucy's slim hand grasped his big arm.

He turned to see what she wanted, forced to look at her for a moment before he bowed his head to avoid her eyes.

"You don't look well, my friend," Lucy's voice was quiet—she wished that he would look at her, "This Ape business has been hard on you." She gave his arm a squeeze, trying to be of some comfort, "But, you're not alone—we've all lost sleep over this—our people and Beasts living with this menace …"

His heart pounded as she gently backed him to the ground. He now had no choice but to look up at her—her face aglow with regal authority and compassion.

"Go rest, my friend, go to your room and rest. Talk to Aslan, His shoulders are broad enough to carry all our burdens. Talk to Him and be comforted, then we'll meet this afternoon and figure out what needs to be done."

Once, he got behind the doors and safely away from her, Lord Highland began breathing a little easier. He ran his hand over his haggard face. That was very close—but he was still in control. And why should the Great Lion be called upon if he was still in control?

*~0~*

When Gawain stepped out onto the wide expanse of Cair Paravel's lawn, he breathed a big gulp of fresh sea air—it was a lovely morning, and he wasn't cramped down in the hold of a crowded tall ship with the governor.

He looked around, with keen interest, at all the goings on. First off, he spotted Queen Lucy pressing the governor off his ladder and talking with him for a minute, before he headed off inside. Gawain shuddered a bit, and thought how lovely it was that she got him to leave—maybe just for him?

Next, he spied Queen Susan kneeling on the ground, her long skirts spread wide in front of her. She was picking up fallen apples and laying them in her skirt, then carrying them to several large barrels for storage. He saw King Peter, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat, hauling buckets of water and muck from an underground storage room that got flooded. The buckets sloshed as he walked, so he was fairly soaked from the knees down.

"Gawain!" He turned his head to see who had called him.

King Edmund was waving for him to come help rebuild a fence that had fallen by the barns. Gawain's heart flip-flopped in his chest.

The young boy had, of course, heard the story of how these Kings and Queens and defeated the White Which, restored peace to his homeland, and fulfilled the prophecy given long ago. He had heard how King Edmund had sided with the Enemy and how Aslan had been sacrificed in his place, and how King Edmund had been restored and helped his siblings win the war.

But, then Gawain had met the governor. Was King Edmund like that? Willing to serve and be a great king on the outside, but really a monster underneath? He hadn't had time to ponder such a question while he was cramped on the ship, but last night, he'd remembered…and wondered.

"Come help me, lad" Edmund called again, wondering why Gawain was looking at him as if he were a ghost, "Come hold this post, while I fill the dirt in."

Gawain trudged over slowly, and put both hands on the post to steady it, while Edmund shoveled dirt into the hole, "Sorry, sir," he answered in small voice.

Edmund stopped after a moment to give the boy, who still wore a strange expression, a quizzical look, "You alright, lad?"

"Yes, sir."

Maybe he was tired. "You look like you could use a cup of that coffee I had this morning—guaranteed to get your heart pumping!" He chuckled to himself and added softly, "but I couldn't do that to a young lad." He wiped his sweaty arm across his brow, leaving a muddy streak across his forehead, "Alright—next hole, next post, this way."

The process began again. Edmund worked as fast and efficiently as a beaver fixing his dam to dig the holes, Gawain held the post, and the king filled in the holes. Finally, they had a nice long row of posts in the ground and Edmund began nailing the rails up.

He gave the boy a look out of the corner of his eye—he looked sweaty and sufficiently off his guard to answer questions without thinking too much. The trick was to find the right topic.

"I assume the governor has you learning all sorts of new things to train you to be a knight, but did you get to go to school before you left home?"

Gawian's eyes lit up and a big smile crossed his face.

"Yes, sir" he talked in a rush of excitement, "My mom is the school teacher on Felimath."

Edmund's smiled too, his white teeth bright against his red, sweaty face. Success! The first try too! The lad was talking and he hurried to encourage more.

"What's your favorite subject?"

"Geography and reading."

"That's capitol, lad! I like those subjects too. What kind of geography do you like?"

"Narnian." Gawain nodded to himself with satisfaction and Edmund gave a hearty laugh.

"Well now. What might be the place you'd like to see most?"

Gawain's face twisted with thought, "Hmm, I think—I think it's called Cau—Cauldron Pool. Can we really go there?"

His faced Edmund hopefully.

Rats. Edmund hated to disappoint the lad, but Susan would have his hide if they went off _that_ far. He peered around Gawain to check on his older sister's location. She was repotting plants now—good, well out of earshot.

"I'm afraid not, lad." He pointed to Susan and Gawain turned around, "You see my sister over there? Well, Queen Susan may skin us alive if we went all the way to Cauldron Pool."

Gawain's eyes started getting bigger and, after a moment, so did Edmunds.

"I was joking, lad! The Lion have mercy, I was joking—Susan wouldn't really—it's just that Cauldron Pool is way north of here—near the Ettin border, and Su would be awfully angry with me, if I took you all the way up there."

"Oh." It took a minute before Gawian's eyes to return to normal size and the two worked quietly for a while, till Edmund cautiously ventured back to the subject of school.

"Sooo, what do you like to read? Do you have a favorite book?"

He was rewarded again with a happy smile and firm nod, "Yes, sir—but not a school book just now. My mom is reading a really cool bedtime story to my sister and I." He stiffed a little at mentioning his sister—the governor would be upset at him for not keeping his tongue under control.

"Oh? A sister, eh? Older or younger?

"Younger."

"What's her name?" Edmund frowned, unhappy with himself; the lad seemed to be calming up again.

"Daisy—my mom picked her name out well because she likes to make daisy chains—only she hasn't been able to get out much lately." He stiffened again. He may as well bite his tongue clean off, before the governor found out he was yammering on and on about Daisy. He began to realize that King Edmund was really easy to talk too.

Edmund gave the yard a scan and zeroed in on his golden headed sister. Lucy, her face smudged with dirt, was kneeling with a tiny shovel, to replant some of the bushes that had been ripped from the ground. He wondered if she had any daisy chains.

"Has she been ill, lad?" Edmund gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, and Gawain realized that the young king's touch didn't repeal him like the governor's hand did.

"Oh, no-no" he answered cautiously, becoming wary, "She got hurt—I accidently broke her leg while I was-um-fooling around."

Edmund's brows rose with surprise, but gradually went back down as he stared at the boy—something wasn't right here.

"I see." He would play along for now.

"Sooo, what's the name of that book you like so well?

"Narnian Prophecies—it tells about all the prophecies that have been told about our world," he gave Edmund a shy look, "I like the one about you guys best."

Edmund nodded soberly, "Thank you—which one are you reading now?"

Gawain was suddenly crestfallen, "Well—I haven't read it since I left home a few weeks ago. I had to leave it behind."

Edmund frowned sympathetically, "Ah, that's hard—I'd hate to give up a good book—and that one sounds _really_ interesting! Do you remember which story was next?"

Gawain's face twisted again, as he thought hard, "Uh—"The Tisroc Who Became a Donkey"—or something. Maybe?

Edmund gave a hearty laugh, "Now, _that_ does sound interesting—I wonder if I'll be around to see it."

Gawain looked remorseful again, "I wish I had it now—I miss it."

"Yes, it sounds like a good book to miss—I'm sorry, lad."

* * *

**Production Note: **It was my intention to progress the story further than I have in this chapter, but Susan toyed with our brains for a long time and Edmund and Gawain didn't want to stop talking and pretty soon, I started thinking that my chapter budget was running low. Part 2 to follow as soon as funds become available.


	3. Investigations Part 2

The "big dent" in repairs Peter had be hoping for didn't happen until late afternoon, and the High King was fairly irritated by the time the tetrarch had cleaned up and gathered in a small conference room for their meeting with Lord Highland. Susan sat on a coach, pouring tea while Edmund slouched in an overstuffed chair, watching Peter and Lucy, who were standing just inside the doorway

"Where is our good lord?" Peter asked with an edge in his voice, as he looked around, his expression dark, "I haven't seen him since early this morning."

Lucy's face flushed a deep red, "I'm sorry, Peter, I forgot to let him know we'd finished up with repairs for the day and would be ready to meet with him after we cleaned up."

Peter gave her a hard look, "Why would you need to let him know? Where's he been all this time?"

Lucy dropped her gave for a moment—Peter could be quite overbearing when he was in this kind of mood, but snapped her head back up to look him in the eye when she answered.

"I sent him to get rest—he looked so haggard this morning—as if he hadn't slept well—"

"I don't recall any of us getting much sleep last night, Lu," Peter continued being cross, "The governor is stout—he would have been fine. You took away an extra body—two more hands—to help clean up."

Susan had heard enough, "Oh, do leave her alone, Peter! Come sit. Lucy—go get the governor now. No, no, don't give me that look, Peter," she got up, looped her arm around his elbow and slung him to a seat beside her, "Stop your grousing—you ought to know things don't always go the way we'd like-Here."

She handed him a cup, "and this isn't my coffee, so drink it."

Lucy watched, as if transfixed, then snapped to as Peter took a long sip, and fled out the door, half-walking, half-jogging to retrieve the governor.

She knocked lightly with one hand, the other positioned on the handle, in order to retrieve him and get back to the conference room quickly. The harsh voice that answered her knock startled her, and she pulled back.

"It's about time you got back."

"My, lord?" Lucy called softly.

A chair creaked from behind the door and a moment later it opened. Lucy, whose head only reached the governor's lower chest, drew away in shock—he looked haggard, but there was something else in his expression too—was it danger that she saw in his eyes?

He saw her draw away from him and was ashamed to have frightened her, but in another sense, he was almost relieved—he'd had a long hard day of battling _him_, and if she might leave him in peace, he might still be able to gain the upper hand.

Lucy regained her composure, and asked, "Ar-are you alright, my lord?" Her eyes scanned him up and down, as a parent might look at an injured child, searching for what might be wrong.

"Yes, Lucy, just—as you pointed out this morning—I'm worn out."

She took his arm and began pulling him forward, "Well, you can stop worrying! The others sent me to fetch you—they're waiting in the conference room in the north wing" she flashed him a confident smile, "between the five of us, we'll figure something out, won't we?"

"Yes, Lucy," he answered softly, as if deflating.

The meeting? They were all waiting? He was stunned. Of course, he knew that this meeting was why he was here, but it had come up so quickly. He had counted on being able to concoct a story to waylay their concern—until, he could completely bring _him_ under control, but the storm had kept him busy at sea, and now _he_ had come to plague his thoughts.

He racked his brain to come up with something—ah, that that might do. It would have to. They were young and trusted him. He could pull it off.

As they closed in on the conference room, he inhaled deeply to steady his nervous heart. Deep down, yes, he felt badly for deceiving his friends, but they weren't giving him any options—he had too much to lose to tell the truth—his reputation, his position. All would be lost.

He pushed the door open and allowed Lucy to step through, before he confidently strode past her and hurried to shake hands with Peter and Edmund, and kiss Susan's cheek. Lucy only stood back, looking a little bewildered at the governor's sudden change in demeanor. Lord Highland graciously reseated Susan and then pulled an overstuffed chair back for Lucy.

"You'll come sit here, won't you, Lucy?" He wanted her to sit where he wouldn't have to look directly at her.

"Uh, oh-yes," she moved quickly to take the seat he offered.

After the girls were settled, the two kings reseated themselves, and finally, Lord Highland settled into a chair. He looked supremely confident as he met the older three's gaze.

Susan passed him a cup and saucer and the younger three looked at Peter to begin.

Peter took a sip of tea to settle the questions running in his mind; he hadn't wanted to have this meeting in the first place, but now it was here. He felt an odd chill in the room, but he didn't quite understand why. Lord Highland looked confident and happy.

"I'm glad to see you looking better," he began, staring hard at the governor, as if that might shed some light on the general weird feeling he was getting, "My sister," he nodded toward Lucy, "told me you didn't seem well this morning."

"Ah, yes-well, yes, I am," The governor gave the older three a wide grin, "Little bout with food poisoning, I think."

Susan turned a bit pale, "Food poisoning? Surely not from _our_ kitchens, Governor?"

"Well, hard to say, you know; after all I just got through with a week at sea, and a nasty storm, but well, maybe…" He hoped she'd take the bait.

"The poor kitchen staff will be beside themselves," Susan murmured, "I hope that's not the cause—was anyone else sickened?"

"No-no, I was the only one that got lucky."

"Well, I'm glad for everyone else's sake, but—"

Edmund cleared his throat, and Susan turned to look at him, her hair spilling over her shoulder.

"As interesting as all this is, Su dear, we do have something else on our plates…"

Susan blushed a pretty pick, "Right, forgive me, go ahead."

"Done, and I think I'll let the high king talk first."

Peter, who had momentarily hoped Edmund would pick up the conversation, scowled at his cup, "Thanks, bro."

"Welcome."

Peter set his cup down hard and gathered himself, "To business then!"

"One question, my lord, just one question to start off. Why didn't you answer our inquiries before we had to call you back?"

The high king was just warming up—all their frustration and worry spilling out—now that he had a proper someone to project it on.

"Do I recall five messages that we sent," he looked his siblings for support," Or was it more?"

"Eight or nine, I recall writing," Edmund said after he drained his tea and set the cup down with a thump, "Granted, we sent several together because we thought that somehow they must be getting lost at sea, or something, so I think there were five deliveries."

"So, why then?" Peter pleaded.

The Governor, who had be smiling gaily, before became suddenly sober, "Ah, I'm afraid, I miss calculated a bit, my dear friend—we were so close to catching that Ape, on so many occasions, that each time, I thought if I just delayed my answer another day, I might be able to write you the good news of a capture—but before I knew it, I got your summons to return to the mainland, and well…"

His eyes started too twinkled as if he had a secret. The older three were eating it up, as far as he could tell. Lucy? Well, he didn't really dare look at Lucy.

"And?" Peter almost growled.

And, well, I have good news—a few days before we set sail, my men captured the Ape and I have him under my control!"

Lucy, who had been taking a long sip to finish her tea, choked on it, rather indecently, in her surprise.

Everyone, turned to look at her, but her siblings, who were just as surprised as she, didn't think it was an unreasonable reaction to what they'd just heard.

"Perhaps, I should have sent a message and avoided all this, but I wanted to see you all and tell you in person, and—"

"So the Ape has been stopped?" Edmund interrupted, almost unbelieving.

"Tried and convicted, yes, Edmund."

"Was it really an Ape?" Susan asked.

"No-no, a man dressed like an Ape." He flinched at his own answer—perhaps, a bit too close to the truth.

Peter was relieved so he ignored the strange feeling that still prickled him—after all, this was the outcome he'd hope for, wasn't it? He leaned forward to grip the big man's hand.

"Well, I have to say, I'm stunned—and relived—that the whole business is through, although," he held Lord Highland's attention with all his kingly authority, "governor, I don't think any of us appreciate your method of informing us—do try refrain from such surprises next time, will you friend?"

Lord Highland looked like a grandfather who'd been chastised by his grandchild and gave an affectionate smile, "Oh, alright then, I'll try to do better."

Peter looked as if he might say something further, but was stopped by a knock on the door.

They all turned towards the sound and he said "Come in."

"Forgive me, your majesties" a satyr murmured as he stuck his head through the door for a moment before stepping inside and bowing low.

"But, I'm afraid we're in need of some assistance down at the wharf—it seems as though the governor's ship wasn't tied properly…and, well," the satyr began looking mighty uncomfortable as Lord Highlands eyes began bulging.

The tetrarch gave each other wide-eyed looks before scrambling to adjourn their meeting.

Susan automatically began gathering empty cups and saucers, sweeping them across the table in a heap with one hand. Peter, Edmund and Lord Highland made a beeline for the door held open by the satyr and Edmund started whistling a crazy tune.

As they moved into the hall, Peter asked, "You seem to be in a good mood for having just found out there's a ship loose in the harbor, what gives little brother?"

"I've got plans for this afternoon—before the Eagles get in."

"Oh? Do tell!"

Edmund gave a mischievous grin, "Well—you may find out later, or maybe, not."

Peter gave him a playfully rough shove.

Back in the conference room, Lucy seemed in a daze—the whole meeting had been so weird—but she startled out of it at the sound of Susan bustling about, and grasp her sister's arm.

"Leave that stuff, Su, I'll clean up here—surely you have something else to do."

Susan nearly said that cleaning up wasn't any big deal, but she thought Lucy looked strangely urgent to do it herself,

"Well-alright Lu, if you want-are you alright, dear?"

"Y-yes, "Lucy thought her excuse was pretty shabby, but she wanted to see if she could make sense of things before she spoke openly, "I just want to think for a bit."

Susan gave her a sister a "I know better than that" look, but kissed Lucy's cheek and stood up, "Well, thank you—I think I'll head to the kitchens and see about this food poisoning business," she looked sad," Our poor staff."

Lucy watched until her sister shut the door behind her then half-heartedly started setting things on the silver service tray—her mind whiling with other thoughts.

The governor—a man she had impeccable trust in-a man who loved to laugh and had been a never ending source of good advice and love to her and her family, ever since their reign began—had, this very morning refused to look at her. He had acted in a way that was difficult for her to name when she had retrieved him less than an hour before, and, she thought, had gone out of his way to avoid her eyes throughout their conference—and all for something he knew, all along, was a non-issue? Yes, of course, the man enjoyed a good laugh, but _this_, he should know, was very poor taste.

Finally, Lucy abandoned the dishes. She walked to the end of the room and peeked around the side of the burgundy floor to ceiling drapes. She ignored the frantic activity on the wharf and looked out across the Eastern Ocean,—far, far off, she imagined she could see the mountains at the edge of the world. She lifted he hands to rest her face on them, and realized that her cheeks her damp with tears.

Oh, dear, she thought as she looked down to where a pocket might be, if her gown had pockets. Here I am with nothing to wipe my eyes.

Oddly, though, a lacy napkin had materialized. Only not…a hand and arm held them out to her. She turned around to meet Peter's eyes. He looked pained to her tear-streaked face.

"What gives, little one? I leave for a few minutes and you spring a leak."

He hauled her into his arms, and sat down, with her in his lap, in one of the chairs.

"Opf—not so little, anymore."

Lucy giggled, in spite of her hurt feelings.

"I thought you were helping rescue the ship."

"Ah, well, I thought I'd better make amends with you for this morning—it seems that you had the right idea to give Lord Highland some rest-poor fellow."

Lucy drew a ragged breath-Peter had unwittingly touched a raw nerve.

"Oh, is that what those tears were for—I'm sorry, Lu. I didn't realize—it's been a long time since my scolding has reduced you to tears."

Lucy shook her head, "No, no, not that—I was just thinking that—"

"Thinking what?"

"Well—I don't know exactly, It's just—"

"Just what?"

"Hold your horses, Peter, I'm thinking."

Peter almost rolled his eyes. They were back at square one. She was thinking.

A moment later, the dam seemed to break open, and Lucy's rushed out.

"It's just that Lord Highland—I sent him to rest because I thought he was consumed with worry over the Ape. He would hardly look at me this morning. Then this afternoon, well, it was more of the same—he looked like death and he hardly met my eyes—I was almost scared of him. Then poof! Right before we get in here, he completely changes, and he's all smiles and confidence and, and—all for a problem solved? I don't understand!"

Peter listened carefully, then considered his word before answering—this information cast the whole thing in quite a different light—a kind of light that he didn't like.

"Well—I didn't realize all that was going on—perhaps, I should talk with him. I'm sorry I didn't catch on to how he treated you in the meeting—I can't imagine why he'd do something like that, but I promise that I'll find out.'

"Oh-no, no, Peter—please, let me talk with him—it's my feelings he's hurt, after all—let me speak with him."

Peter hesitated for a moment then nodded his agreement.

Another knock on the door came, and Susan's voice said, "The Eagles have landed."

Peter and Lucy looked at each other. Already?

* * *

It was very late that night when Gawain finished tending to Lord Highland's needs. He closed the door and stood in the hallway for several moments—his face blotchy with tears. He wanted to go home. He hated his job as a page for this evil man.

"Well, I hope you're not upset that we didn't get that ride in, lad." Gawain nearly jumped out of his skin as Edmund seemed to magically appear out of the shadows thrown by the torch light in the hallway. He looked down at the young boy with love and curiosity, his hands behind his back, "Do tell me what's up, lad?"

"You won't laugh?"

"Absolutely. I promise."

"I-I'm homesick." Gawain cringed, thinking himself weak.

Edmund's eyes, strangely, lit up at this news.

He knelt down and pulled a book from behind his back, "_This_-I know-is not your mom or dad or even your sister, but I do hope that it will help you feel better about not having them right here with you."

Narnian Prophecies!" Gawain face lit up, "but how-?"

"It was in our library—we have a huge one, you know—and I thought that it might be there, though I'd never seen it. It took me a while—and even longer since the Eagles came in earlier than we expected—but I wasn't about to throw in the towel till I searched every nook and cranny in that place!" Edmund beamed. "Come on, lad, let's go find out about that, Tisroc. He couldn't avoid chuckling. "Who reads? You or me?"

"You read—my mom always read." Then he stopped, realizing who he was talking too, "You mean, you'd read this to me?"

"Sure."

"But why?"

Edmund gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, "Because I happen to love you, lad—and I want you to know that I care about you, and I take a great deal of pleasure in your happiness."

*~0~*

Lord Highland sat alone in his room—he thought the day had been successful enough—they believed his story. He was safe. But what he hadn't counted on was how bad he would feel—he hadn't counted on hating himself for lying to his friends. He wished he'd never gotten involved with this Ape business.

Oh, but you, have gotten involved, and now you can't quit, and I have control, her voice reminded him.

No! I still have control! Me, not you, me! He yelled inside himself. See, I'll prove it.

He walked to the back of his room and opened the little case that held the bottles of red and green liquid. He opened one and drank its green contents. There! See? I'm in control. _He_ would not get the better of him tonight.

* * *

**A/N **I have a new poll up. Please vote, if you like.


	4. The Cat Pops Out the Bag

In the middle of a bright afternoon, on the second day after Lord Highland arrived, Lucy, freshly washed and glowing with her usual sparkle after another round of cleaning the grounds, breezed through the hallways of Cair Paravel, on her way to invite the governor to take afternoon tea with her. She had gotten over her hesitations about having this meeting—after all, Peter was right, wasn't he? There wasn't any reason for Lord Highland to intentionally treat her poorly—she figured that she must be overreacting.

She hiked her skirts to sail down a short flight of stairs and crashed headlong into Edmund, who was coming out a door at the bottom.

"Whoa, there," he said, as he grabbed on to her to steady himself and nearly threw them both off their feet.

He regained his balance and steadied her, "Where are you running off to?"

"I was going to invite Lord Highland for afternoon tea."

"Oh, great—Peter mentioned that you weren't taken with his attitude yesterday. You've certainly got a good idea—friends working out their problems together is the best way to handle it."

He hooked her arm around his elbow and they walked together through the halls.

"You know, Ed, I don't really need an escort to get to Lord Highland's room."

"Oh, no?" He looked deeply crushed until a mischievous grin slowly spread over his face, "Well, luckily for you, I'm _not_ escorting you—I'm taking Gawain horseback riding. He's with Lord Highland now, so I'm walking down there to catch him before he heads off somewhere."

"Oh, great!" Lucy enthused, but then looked quizzically, "You know there's not much time before dinner for a really good ride."

Edmund nodded, "That's alright, you were right—the lad hasn't been on horseback much before, just his family's pony, before he left home."

Lucy looked anxiously curious, "What horse are you going to saddle for him?"

Edmund pulled her close and whispered in her ear. Her eyes got big as saucers and she shoved him away,

"You lair—Abatos is the spookiest horse in our barns—who are you _really_ saddling?"

"Galathe for him. I'll ride Ajax."

"Oh, that's wonderful! Galathe is a sweet thing—she'll follow Ajax around like a puppy and keep Gawain out of trouble."

"Most every horse in our barns does whatever Ajax wants—except Peter's Aherin. We'll take a few spins around the courtyard to get him settled, then head off…somewhere"

"You don't know where?"

"Nope, wherever the wind blows us."

"There isn't any wind presently."

"Then we won't get very far—ow, hey, why am I always getting slapped?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, "Guess!"

Edmund gave her a wicked grin.

"Oh, say Lu, how about going down to the barns to see us ride off? You could wave a lacy hanky and hand us each some flowers, and—ow—there you go slapping me again."

You're not riding off to war, Ed."

"Well, of course not. If I was riding to a war, then you'd be in a saddle on a horse next to me, not sending me off with flurries of hankies and flowers—I've got to take things when I can get them, don't I?"

Lucy rolled her eyes again, "I suppose—I'll come."

Edmund flashed her a big grin, then pounded on Lord Highland's door.

Gawain opened it and was startled to see the king and queen standing before him.

He turned his head back into the room, wondering what the governor might do, but feeling safe with royalty standing behind him,

"Um-sir? King Edmund and Queen Lucy to see you."

A chair creaked and a moment later Lord Highland towered above the boy.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise!" He threw them a wide smile and tried to calm his racing heart. What was this about? He thrust his hand out to Edmund and took Lucy's head in both hands to kiss her forehead, like he might do to his grandchild. It startled her.

"Actually, it's Lucy that wants to see you, Governor," Edmund said and wrinkling his nose in disgust—he couldn't recall anyone in this world treating Lucy so informally, "and I'm here to see if Gawain might like to go horseback riding with me? With your permission, of course, Governor."

Lord Highland shifted uncomfortable. He didn't want to speak with Lucy, but he figured that he'd manage alright. The dear girl—he could convince her of anything. What sent a fright into him was Gawain riding off alone with a boy of Edmund's caliber. The way the boy talked about the young king this morning had made him very worried, and yet, all might be lost, here and now, if he refused to let the boy ride. He had no excuse for needing the boy for several hours, particularly if he was taking tea with Lucy. Questions might come up, and he didn't want to field questions.

"Afternoon tea would be lovely, my dear," he said fondly and swallowed his concerns, letting them settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, that's wonderful! We haven't had much time to spend together these last couple days."

Lord Highland gave Edmund a slow nodded, hopping his eyes didn't reveal his terror, "Yes, you may have the boy for a couple hours—a ride will be good for him. He needs practice, you know. He's got pretty low ability as a rider." Maybe he'll fall and break his neck, he thought.

Gawain's face reddened at Lord Highland's insult, but Edmund patted his back.

"Well, practice does make perfect. You know, and Edmund's School for Young Riders has just opened up. Come on, lad, to the barns!" They headed down the hallway.

"Oh, wait." Lucy called after them, and then turned back to Lord Highland, "Will it be alright, if I go see them off before we have tea? I think I'd like too. I'll send someone to fetch you when I get back."

Lord Highland nodded, vastly relieved for any postponement.

* * *

A little over an hour later, Lucy was in a small second floor parlor, busily setting a small table for tea, but her mind was laughing at her brother and a little boy.

Ajax, from the start, had been eager to go for a run, and he'd fussed and fumed when he discovered that the beginning of the ride would consist of doing loops around the courtyard. Edmund would, no doubt, have his hands full of his mount today. Galathe, as usual, was content to let another lead the way. She followed Ajax amiably until he bolted, then she took off too, not wanting to be left behind. On a few occasions, Lucy thought that poor Gawain was about to request to be allowed off.

In the end though, Edmund had gotten Ajax to at least tolerate the slow pace and Gawain became comfortable enough for them to head out. Lucy picked a few wild flowers, that were popping up around the stable, and handed them to the boys and made a little show of waving a lace handkerchief to see them off, much to Edmund's delight and Gawain's bewilderment.

A knock on the door startled her out of her reverie.

"Yes? Come in."

A young faun child, whose father worked on their castle staff, and who visited every once in a while, poked her head into the room and said, rather timidly, "Begging your pardon, your majesty, but the governor says he's taken on a headache while you were down at the stables, and he doesn't think he's up for having tea."

Lucy's eyes blazed with an uncommon fury, but soften when the young faun shrank back.

"Come in here for a minute, Chevre."

Lucy waited till the youngster was in front of her to continue, "Have you ever heard of something called 'lady's privilege'?"

Chevre shook her head, and bit her lip nervously, "No, your majesty."

"Well, tell the good lord that I'm invoking it! I expect to see him up here for tea post-haste."

Chevre nodded, backing away.

Once she was gone, Lucy returned to setting up for tea, but now, being irritated, she simply threw the rest of the biscuits on the plate, and the stood griping the table with her eyes burning holes through it. Why is he doing this? she thought.

The sound of something scraping against the window made her turn her head and she was surprised to see that the day was no longer bright. The sky had taken on a queer yellowish-gray tint and the sea was becoming restless, with whitecaps building up against the rocks at the harbor's entrance and along the cliffs. The stately oak, just beside the window, was beating a nervous rhythm and its leaves seemed to quiver.

Lucy watched, as if mesmerized, for several minutes, as the distant storm gathered far out at sea, and only briefly wondered about the boys out on the horses. How had the weather turned so suddenly?

A small knock on the door was obscured by the low rumble of thunder, and after several moments, Chevre opened it a crack and stuck her head inside,

"Begging your pardon, your majesty, but are you alright?"

Lucy jumped and whirled her head from the window to the door,

"What—oh yes, I'm sorry, Chevre, I was just watching the storm come in. It's come on rather unexpectedly, hasn't it?"

Chevre bowed, "Yes, your majesty—but the Governor". She glanced towards the door with a strange expression.

"Oh, yes, send him in, of course."

Chevre hesitated, "Are you sure, ma'am? He wasn't real pleased when I came back for him."

"Yes, I'm quite sure," Lucy tired to keep the irritation out of her voice.

Chevre bowed again, "Very well, your majesty." She backed away and slid out the door. A moment later, Lord Highland presented himself. He gave Lucy a big smile and came and kissed her forehead again,

"Lucy, my dear, I'm afraid that little faun might have taken me the wrong way—I think she thinks I'm sick, but I was only teasing her—she's so serious you know? I thought fauns could take more teasing than she did."

Lucy stepped back, away from his uncomfortable embrace, and poured him a cup of tea and laid a biscuit out for him.

"It seems as though you've gone a bit too far in you teasing on this trip, Governor." She indicated the chair across the table from her and said, "Please sit down."

Once they were both seated and had taken a few bites of biscuit and sips of tea, Lord Highland decided that it was necessary for himself to guide the conversation, so as to avoid any uncomfortable questions. His old feeling of being exposed to the light was quickly returning as he had no choice but to look at her.

"Ah-I'm sorry you feel that way, Lucy, I thought you liked my jokes."

Lucy frowned, "It's hardly good taste to tease a child in that way, my lord, and," she paused to be sure that she had his undivided attention, "It's even worse to keep your kings and queens in such suspense over such a dreadful thing as the Ape."

Thunder, much closer now, rolled across the sky and shook their tiny table.

"Lucy, we discussed the Ape yesterday—"

"That doesn't give me peace, no, listen to me, my lord—I am your queen, after all—we had expected better from you, my friend. You have been our good and trusted friend for ever so long and your reputation precedes you this world over, and then-then _this_ happens—it pains me-us-deeply that our friend would treat his responsibilities so carelessly!"

The room had grown darker without sunlight to brighten and warm it and flickers of lighting made strange shadows dance about the Queen and the Governor. Lord Highland's heart beat rapidly. His hands shook so he clasped them under the table. Had his time run out? She spoke of his reputation—the think he most wanted to preserve. Could she really know?

He stood up gravely, his tea cup still in his hand. Now he towered over her, his shadow blanketing her smaller from.

"I am sorry, Lucy," his voice was grave, "shall I tender my resignation?"

"No! My lord, no!" Lucy slammed a frustrated fist into the table, "I only wish to know—to understand—why you have done this!" Now, she got to her feet to plead her case, but the darkness spared him from seeing her clearly, "Please, my lord—my friend—something grieves you. I want to know. I want to help. And don't tell me it was our food, or your ship's food. I won't have more of that! Tell me what's going on?"

He set his teacup down, freeing his hands.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," his voice went from monotone to a soft whisper, sending prickles up her spine, "I'm so sorry. But, I can't."

Then he turned and left the room.

*~0~*

Edmund and Gawain strolled through down a tree-lined grassy path. The afternoon was warm and the sun created dappled shadows across the leaves. Ajax had his ears back and occasionally threw up his nose to test the King's iron grip and Galathe took advantage of her rider's occasional inattentiveness to snatch a bite to eat every now and again.

But, Gawain will be forgiven for his lacks attention because there were many other things to for him to take in.

Untold numbers and kinds of Beasts stopped their work or play to say hello to the King and ask after his health and how his family fared. Edmund took time to speak with everyone and Gawain was pleased that he was always included in their conversations and the Beasts were interested in what he had to say. One little squirrel took particular delight in asking the young boy questions.

As they continued on, after that conversation, Gawain thought of a question.

"Your majesty?"

"Yes, lad?"

"That squirrel really liked me. I want to know something about him. When did you first meet him?"

"Well, I first _met_ him just after our coronation, but the first time I every laid eyes on him was when he was not more than a little stone figurine in the Witch's collection—and all for enjoying a little Christmas tiding."

Edmund spoke of the memory simply. It had happened. It had been fixed. It was over.

Gawain was reminded of something else.

"And he still likes you?" It pained his heart to ask that because he thought of Edmund as his friend, but there was something else on his mind.

Edmund held Ajax up even more until Galathe came alongside him. They continued on.

"He forgave me—all the Beasts have—I am very blessed."

"Are you _sure_ everyone forgave you?"

"Yes—but what are you getting at, lad?"

"Well-um, well," Gawain stammered wondering how he might go about asking his question, "What if someone-something-someone—well what if they hurt someone I love real bad, do I have to forgive them?"

Edmund gave the boy a tender understanding smile, "Yes, lad—that's what Aslan likes."

"Oh." Gawain looked downcast.

"You don't want to please the Lion?" Edmund was astounded.

"Well, I was only thinking that if someone didn't forgive you, then maybe, I wouldn't have to forgive—"He stopped short.

Edmund gave him a funny look, "Well, that's awfully hard on me, don't you think, lad?" Then his expression softened, "But I know forgiveness is hard sometimes."

"Yes—like impossible," Gawain pouted.

"For us, yes, I think your right" Edmund took a tighter grip of the reins as Ajax pulled ahead and Galathe stopped to nibble, "But nothing is impossible for Aslan; He will give you His strength to do it, if you ask."

Then a thought stuck Edmund, "Say, are you taking about whoever hurt your sister?"

Gawain was wide-eyed, "But I told you that I hurt her by accident! You didn't believe me?"

"Let's just say that I thought there was more to the story—you don't look like the type of lad that would go about fooling around."

Suddenly a blast of cold air rushed through them to call Edmund's attention towards the heavens, "Say, how'd that storm creep up without us noticing? It's nearly on us!"

Lightening flickered in the darkening clouds.

"We'd better get back!" Ajax tossed his head and danced sideways, as if he sensed that his long awaited run was imminent.

"I don't know if I'm ready for a long run," Gawain looked at the path ahead with uncertain eyes.

"A trot then? We've got to get back. Susan won't be at all happy that I've got you out in this. Here, give me a rein. We'll make it. Hold on."

They broken into a rough trot with Edmund feeling pulled in two directions as the disappointed Ajax tried to pound ahead and Galathe tried to keep out of his way.

Suddenly, a light dawned in Edmund's mind.

"It was the Ape, wasn't it, lad? You're the lad that first got a glimpse of that foul creature, aren't you?"

Gawain knew that he'd really put his foot in his mouth this time. What would the Governor do? How could he get out of this?

He pretended not to hear the King's question. In the quickly increasing wind and big cold raindrops that had begun to splatter them, it didn't seem unbelievable that he hadn't heard.

"_Lad_?" Edmund's voice growled close to his ear and Gawain hung his head.

"Yes, sir, he replied, "It was my sister."

Edmund was perplexed, Gawain didn't act even slightly relieved that the Ape had been caught.

"Aren't you glad that the menace has been stopped, lad?"

Gawain gave him a blank look.

Edmund was startled, but perhaps it was part of the Governor's new outlandish sense of humor and he hadn't told Gawain. Edmund happily filled him in.

Gawain's blank stare continued and was accompanied by a slowly shaking head.

At first, Edmund took it as denial of unfathomably good news. Too good to be true. But after watching for a minute, he felt a ticklish feeling go up his spine.

"What haven't we been told, lad?" His voice was tense and his expression as dark as the sky.

"It's the Governor."

"_What_?"

"He's the Ape—I saw him hurt Daisy."

Edmund sat stunned and frozen in his saddle for a moment. They had all trusted Lord Highland for many years! Then, without a second thought, he pushed his heels into Ajax's sides and released the horse for the run he'd craved all afternoon.

"Wait! Your majesty, please wait! I can't keep up."

*~0~*

Lord Highland sat dejectedly in his room as the storm continued outside, the wind moaning as it torn around the corner of the castle. All was lost now, he was sure. His heart rate sped up as he thought about what awaited him

_He_ growled inside him. _He_ always did this. When things were most stressful, _he_ always came calling. Lord Highland's mind raced. He wanted to take what lay before him like the man and servant his dear friends had always known him to be, but _he_ kept calling. _He_ wanted one more chance to come out. Oh, what should he choose?

He bit his lip with resolved, but went towards the back of the room as if an invisible hand beckoned him.

He opened that small truck, so beautifully carved, and found the tiny box. He would be good. I owed that to his friends, didn't he?

But, somehow, _he_ had control of his hand and he reached beyond the vials of green liquid and seized one with red. He stared unseeing at it as he twisted the top off and drank every last drop. Then he fell to the ground and his form began to change.


	5. The Chase

Lucy sat by her bedroom window, head on the windowsill and arms folded beneath her chin. Her little window was open, but she didn't care about the rain that came down in great sheets. She only stared blankly at the dark forest and the churning sea beyond.

After her disastrous meeting with Lord Highland, she'd fled to her room through the secret stairway, so no one would see. She had sent the very concerned Myrrh out with orders to tell no one about the tears that had managed to slide down her face, while assuring her lady-in-waiting that she would tell all when she was ready.

The only one that the young queen hadn't managed to make stand down was her faithful personal guard, an enormous sable-colored Cougar, named Concolor. He had given Lucy no choice but to let him stay, but she was hardly concerned because he wouldn't tell anyone and the only ones he would allow in her room were her own siblings, so as long as they knew nothing, she'd have till dinner to compose herself.

Lightning flicked, thunder rolled, and rain slashed the castle, seeming to match the intensity of the queen's tears. She just couldn't understand why their dear friend wouldn't tell her what seemed to be driving him mad. She mulled over the idea of sharing her feelings with her family—she knew they had a right to know—but somehow, she just wanted to cry first.

Suddenly, a particularly wicked crack of lightning exploded across the sky and Lucy saw, for the briefest moment, the dark form of something disappearing into the forest. She knew in an instant what it was, though she'd never in her life seen it before—the Ape had come to Narnia!

She scrambled to her feet, kicked away her chair, and leaned partway out her window, searching franticly and vainly for another glimpse—perhaps proof that she'd really seen what she thought she had, but it quickly dawned on her that she was wasting time. She had to get her horse and ride out to stop this menace that had truly come home to haunt them.

She grabbed the belt that held her dagger and cordial and fastened it, with shaking hands, around her slim waste. Then she dashed to her door, flung it open, and promptly threw out her hands as she went crashing to the floor.

Both the queen and her guard scrambled to gain their feet together. Lucy was anxious to get to the barns and Concolor equally anxious to know what had made her come flying out her door to trip over him.

As Cats are more nimble than Humans, the guard gained his feet and moved in front of her before she could find her balance and run for the stairs. He regarded her with steady unblinking eyes—body tense as if he could smell a disaster unfolding.

"If I may, your majesty," his voice rumbled low and steady, as if it were a purr, "Where are you going in such a frantic state—and with your war things strapped about you?"

She eyed the stairs that were so close without the Cat blocking her way.

"The Ape, the Ape!" her voice was frantic, "I saw him—just now—outside my window, in the trees—I have to get—"

"The others, of course—we will rouse them and send out a party to stop the foul creature."

"NO! There's no time for that—I'm going now—NOW!" Why wouldn't he move?

Concolor stood still for what seemed, to Lucy, like an eternity, though it was only a couple seconds. Then he slowly, deliberately stepped back. She bolted through the open space, but was hardly past him, when she was frozen by the most bloodcurdling scream she'd ever heard.

Her question of, "What was that?" was lost to the slamming of doors and thundering of feet, paws, and hoofs coming towards them from every direction.

Susan, who was in her room down the hall, dressing for dinner was first on the scene. Her face was very white and she couldn't find words to speak for just a moment, but in that moment, she lost her chance, because Peter and a whole company of armed Beasts arrived.

"_What, in blazes, is going on_?" Peter demanded at the top of his lungs.

Concolor regarded everyone with a sort of stately disbelief, as if they should all know what was going on, if they took time to think about it.

"Her majesty," he said, inclining his head towards Lucy, "has seen the Ape—just now—on our very shores."

The Cat set his always no nonsense and very cold gaze on Peter and bow of his head, "Your sister didn't think that there was time to go rousing up a company of warriors to ride out, but, you know, my king—you _all_ know—that Cats don't need to knock on doors to attracted attention." He bowed his head again.

Peter turned a sickened gaze on his youngest sister, "_Lu_? Please tell me that your faithful guard has misunderstood your intentions."

"Well, he _didn't_!" She exclaimed, "And right now, while we're all standing around here doing nothing short of nothing that-that-thing is probably plundering—or worse!"

Lucy spun around and yelled back behind her, "Well, not on _my_ watch!"

"No!" Peter shouted.

"Lucy!" Susan screamed.

Lucy paid no heed as she hit the stairs and promptly crashed into a soaked, dripping, and wild eyed Edmund—who saved them from a tumble down the stairs only because his momentum was stronger than hers. He picked her up and carried her back to the stunned group standing outside her doorway.

"_Where's Lord Highland_?" the younger king bellowed in a voice nothing short of thunder.

"Ed? Where in the world have you been?" Susan looked incensed, "Don't tell me you had Gawain out in this—and what with Lu seeing the Ape—"

"Lord Highland _is_ the Ape," Edmund fired back in a voice that was something between a growl and a shout.

"_What_?" Peter was incredulous.

Susan gasped.

Lucy turned white, "That's what he wouldn't tell me?" she whispered.

"We'll need to get Aherin and some other horses saddled—thank goodness, I didn't use Ajax much on our ride today—he's not at all weary—in fact, I'd say he's spoiling for a fight."

Peter gave his orders quickly. Turning to the centaur closest to him, he said, "Abou-ali—take your sons to the northeastern gate—be fully armed."

"Oh—Peter, no" Lucy began, but Susan clamped a hand over her mouth and Peter didn't seem to hear anyway.

To his favorite Talking Hound, Laika, he said, "Round up the Hunt Pack—we'll need good noses—I understand the Ape can move quickly. Bring a few mastiffs, in case there's a brawl. Tell the Cats to be ready," Laika almost smiled as she thought about giving Cats orders, and Peter almost smiled at the thought of the Cat/Dog rivalry that was typical, even in battles.

To Peridan, Peter said, "You round up some Talking Birds—Owls, for a night hunt, I think—then come to the barns. Ed and I and will get the horses and be waiting for you." He turned to Susan, who still had her hand clamped over Lucy's mouth—not to mention the other arm wrapped around the young queen's shoulders, in a sort of wrestling hold.

"You and Lu stay here," his tone came out short, but he and the others were already moving towards the stairs. Lucy, who didn't like the idea of _hunting_ their friend, looked like she might like to bite Susan's fingers in order to be allowed to say something, but she didn't.

At the top of the stairs, Peter looked back over his shoulder at them, "We'll do everything we can to bring him back alive." Then they were gone.

"Well, that just _stinks_!" Lucy growled in frustration, when all got quiet, "Maybe I could have talked to him! Maybe I could have—and now they're going to kill him." She turned white again and clasped her face with cold quivering fingers. "I talked with him this afternoon. Our dear friend…" she said with a sob.

"Stop it, Lucy!" Susan commanded sharply. She didn't like the idea that they may need to kill their friend either. "Peter just said they would do everything they could to spare his life. Goodness knows, I should have questioned you more yesterday-today, and I'm sorry I didn't—I knew something was bothering you—we just—just—just need a diversion to pass the time!"

Lucy scowled skeptically, "Like what?"

Susan didn't even have to think about it, "Come on, let's go find Gawain and keep him company—he must be in a state."

Lucy agreed.

Ten minutes later, Susan knocked softly on the door to Gawain's tiny little room. There was no response.

She knocked again. "Gawain?" she called quietly, "Its Queen Susan and Queen Lucy—please open the door, dear. We're not here to harm you—or scold you—for keeping the secret." Still no reply, "We've only come to keep you company while-till things get settled."

The two queens exchanged worried looks and Lucy quietly turned the knob. The door swung open with the strangest creaking sound. The two queens peered inside. The torch light from the hallway threw their shadows across the room, but Gawain was not there.

The two queens exchanged another look.

"You don't supposed Ed got so worried about us-the Ape- that he went to fast for Gawain to keep up, do you?" Lucy asked.

"No."

Wondering what they should do, Lucy swept her gaze back and forth along the hallway and noticed light coming from Lord Highland's room. She shivered and called Susan's attention to it. The queens cautiously headed down to hall to investigate.

They discovered the door ajar and Susan peered through the tiny crack, then stepped back and motioned for Lucy to do the same. A relieved smile slowly spread across the young queen's features—Gawain was rummaging though some of the governor's trunks at the back of the room.

The queens shoved the door back and its loud creaking made the little boy nearly faint from fright, but Susan was quick and made a diving catch of his head. Lucy peered over him worriedly.

"Are you alright, Gawain? We certainly didn't mean to frighten you. Do you think he's alright, Susan? I could run and get my cordial, if you don't think he is."

"No, no, I think he'll be just fine on his own in a minute." She slid her hands under his shoulders and pushed him upright, "There now, take some deep breaths, you look frightful child—though I don't doubt that you have reason too. You're soaking wet—you haven't changed out of your riding things—that won't do. Lucy go back to his room and find a dry tunic and pants—do hurry. This boy is in a trance."

Lucy was gone the next moment and Susan and Gawain stayed seated on the floor till she returned a few minutes later. Then the queens exited and Gawain roused himself enough to put on the dry things with numb fingers and a blank expression. With that taken care of, Susan ordered them upstairs for refreshments and a quiet place to talk things over.

They arranged themselves, in a small lounge, around a small table beside a crackling fire. The flames, being the only light in the room, made shadows dance across their faces and around the room. Gawain dug his toes into the deep red carpet, snuggled into the blanket that Susan tucked around his shoulders, and accepted a mug of steaming hot chocolate from Lucy.

"Did you enjoy your ride with Edmund, dear?" Susan asked, to try and get him talking.

"Most of it, yes, your majesty," Gawain was shy now, not really familiar with these two beautiful girls, and ashamed about the trouble he figured that he'd caused. His eyes roamed the walls and he felt as if the paintings of long ago kings and queens stood accusing him.

"You needn't feel ashamed, dear," Susan coaxed, "You're not in trouble—our only desire is for you to relax and feel safe within our home. You look like death, child. Maybe you should just rest."

"Where is Lord Highland now?" he asked.

Susan shook her head, "I don't know where our friend is—perhaps he himself doesn't know where he is. The Ape—we shall call him that, for he is certainly not the man we came to love and trust when we came here—our brothers have taken some men and Beasts and are scouring the countryside as we speak." She gave Gawain's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "Don't worry, dear. We're confident that they will find this Ape and we will discover what has happened to our friend."

Gawain snuggled deeper into the blanket.

"Where did you go on your ride?" Lucy asked, in an attempt to push the subject back to more cheerful things, "Did you meet anyone?"

At that, Gawain brightened up a little and soon got rolling to tell them about how friendly everyone was and how much he had enjoyed the wooded path that they had taken and how different it was from the windswept Felimath or the bustle of Narrowhaven. He finished off his narrative with an account of the young squirrel and holding on for dear life as Galathe had tried keeping up with Ajax on the ride home.

Both queens cringed a little, but Gawain said that now that he could look back, it was actually pretty thrilling and he might like to do it again sometime.

*~0~*

Peter's small contingent moved as noiselessly as possible through the gate. They had no idea what expect, but Peter suspected that if any of the _real_ Lord Highland remained within the Ape, he would be traveling very fast in order to get away from them. The _real_ Lord Highland wouldn't fight them; he just didn't know how much of his friend might remain. They would have to find him first.

Laika and her Pack fanned out into the dark woods under flickers of lightning and the sounds of waves battering the coast. The Cats disappeared into the trees, paying no heed to the moaning wind and creaking limbs as they hunted from aloft. Owls winged about as if they might have been acrobats. The centaurs and men on horseback traveled more slowly, as rain slicked moss, dense underbrush, weapons, and armor made it a slow go for them.

"It sure would be a lot easier to travel without all this armor and gear," Peridan muttered tensely, as he swept aside underbrush with his sword and moved his mare cautiously forward.

"It'd be a lot easier for me if I could understand what has happened to my friend," Peter replied grimly.

Edmund, who was almost swept off his saddle as Ajax shoved through some low branches, growled, "_Blast_—knock that off, Ajax—why don't you behave yourself!" He yanked his horse away from the tree.

"I FOUUUUUND! I FOUUUUND!" Gabriel, one of the Hounds, baying voice rose hauntingly above and mingled with the sounds of the storm. Soon the other Dog's voices consolidated with his as one bone-chilling mass. The Ape's scent had been located.

Peter, Edmund, Peridan, and the centaurs moved as quickly as possible, but the others forged ahead. Their voices soon all but lost to the sounds of the storm.

"_Dashed_—I can't hardly make out where they are," Peter frowned as he ducked under a thick limb.

No one replied. They only concentrated on moving forward.

Suddenly and very close by, a Cat's shriek cut through the other noises like a knife. The horses spooked and nearly lost their riders, but once they were controlled, all plunged through the last bit of underbrush to reveal a ring of Talking Animals surrounding a very haggard man, who had fallen to his knees weeping,

"I'm not worthy to serve anymore," the man sobbed, "Take my life now-I'm not worthy."

Peter dismounted and walked slowly towards, not the Ape, but Lord Highland. He held out a hand to help the Governor to his feet.

"Shall we go home and talk things over, old friend?" Peter asked quietly.

* * *

Chevre burst into the lounge. Susan and Lucy were chatting quietly to pass the time and Gawain, exhausted from his day, slept with his head propped against Lucy's arm and his legs sprawled out in front of him.

"They've found him, your majesties!" she cried out excitedly, almost beside herself with happiness, "They've found him!"

In the glowing embers of the fire, Lucy's face turned a few shades paler and Susan busied herself calming down the startled Gawain. Chevre realized that she had behaved improperly. She calmed down and started to back out of the room.

"Um-uh, begging your pardon, your majesties," she said with a bow of her head, "I didn't mean—and I'm terribly sorry for—"

"Does my lord live?" Lucy blurted out, before Chevre could back out of the room.

"Yes, your majesty—your brothers are waiting for you both in the drawing room."

* * *

**A/N** Sorry about the delay. I've been busy. One more chapter, so thanks for hanging in there.


	6. The Resolution

Peter, Edmund, and Lord Highland sat quietly by the roaring fire waiting for Susan and Lucy to arrive. Peridan stood outside the door with orders not to permit anyone but the queens inside. No one spoke. The room was quiet, save the snapping wood in the fireplace and the steady strokes of the grandfather clock's pendulum along the wall. The room was cloaked in an air of weariness.

Peter sat stone-faced as he poured and sipped the spiced wine that had been set out for them. Hundreds, if not thousands, of scenarios played through his mind as to why and how Lord Highland could be capable of becoming the Ape and doing the things _he_ was accused of. None made sense. Edmund sat next to his older brother, sipping his tea, with a large gash cutting through his forehead, just above one eye. It was an angry wound, but the younger king seemed unaffected by the pain. He was thankful they had recovered their friend without incident and he awaited an explanation with soft smile.

Lord Highland sat opposite the two brothers, wearing the look of a man who no longer controlled anything, particularly his own future. But he didn't care. Indeed, somehow, he was glad. He stared unseeing at the goblet that had been placed in front of him. He could think of nothing but blackness.

Running feet in the hall made the kings look to the door and a moment later, their sisters burst in the room with anxious expressions of relief. The noise and brightness of them changed the atmosphere in the room, rousing the three men from their sedated state.

Peter and Edmund automatically rose from their places, still holding their half-empty goblets, as the queens entered, and only realized their hands were full when they attempted to hug the girls. They scowled at their hands and thunked their glasses down. Watching the family reunion, Lord Highland struggled to his feet, as if all his burdens were resting in his lap. The noise turned the tetrarch to face him and the room fell silent again.

Lucy moved first and broke the silence. She crossed the floor to take Lord Highland's big cold hands in her own small warm ones. Her eye held nothing but compassion, but they also dance with thankfulness that he was safe. Lord Highland couldn't quite wrap his mind around that, and it made his knees weak. His brain seemed foggy, as if his coldness had run into her warmth. She pressed him down into his seat.

"We're so glad—so _thankful_—that you're safe." She said, as she knelt in front of him, still clasping his hands. They stayed that way for a minute or so.

"Lucy."

Peter's voice made the young queen swivel around to see her older siblings already seated together on the couch. There was hardly room for them all.

She turned back to Lord Highland, "Won't you tell us now?" she pleaded. Lord Highland bit his lip, his eyes welling up at her brightness, as if he'd stared at the sun to long. Then he nodded slowly.

With a final squeeze to his hands as reassurance, Lucy rose to her feet and looked around for a place to sit. Edmund quietly cleared his throat and patted the tiny spot next to him. They were all going to sit together. Lucy's was surprised, but she obeyed her brother and crammed down into their midst.

Lord Highland felt somehow reassured by Lucy's gesture—he didn't know what lay ahead for him, but somehow he felt that he could tell his story and take whatever happened afterward. He still didn't think he had the courage to look them in the face, but he drew in a deep shuttering breath and began,

"Many years ago, when I was much younger, I took a trip to Archenland with my family—Grandfather was old and dying then, and he wished to be buried as close to Narnia as possible. He had been nearly middle-aged when the Witch took over, and as he had worked on the Royal staff, he'd always bitterly regretted being a part of that final retreat, although, I admit, he didn't share much about it with me. Well, anyway, we came to Archenland during his final days, and the King—Lune's grandfather—gave us shelter until he passed and we buried him pretty close to the border."

"Well, I'd grown up on the Lone Islands, and had never seen the mainland. I'll admit, I was half-giddy about the whole trip—perhaps, some would say I was foolishly excited—but anyway, I spent a great deal of time exploring the great woods, and wide valleys—any kind of scenery that seemed different than what I saw everyday on the Islands—I was having a wonderful time, until…"

The tetrarch held their breath in anticipation and apprehension.

"Well, you see, one day, I was out riding near the border, the King had given me a beautiful mare to ride during our stay with them—she was a great big bay, with incredibly long, slender legs and a fine arching neck, her mane and tail seemed, to me, to sparkled like black diamonds, and her gait, oh, she moved as if she were floating in the air." His eyes watered a bit as he recalled her, and it took him a few moments to continued his story,

"Well anyway, not long after my grandfather was buried, I was riding along, exploring, when I saw the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen before—she was standing just over the border, in the snow, and oh, she was gorgeous—of course, you can probably imagine my shock when beckoned me to come with her—"

He drooped his head at some shameful memory.

"Well, I followed her into Narnia—through the high snow drifts and wicked barrier batches—they were nothing but thrones that tore deep into my mare's flesh—but to me they only held me back from this gorgeous woman that I was falling more in love with at every step. It was as if she was pulling me along with invisible chains."

"Well after a good many hours of slow hard travel—for my mare, at least—we came to a particularly dark cave, although, to me, when she went inside, it fairly glowed."

"She told me that she needed my help with chores that were too hard for her. She said I was to stay with her for a while. She said she wanted me to—well, she wanted me to do all sorts of things for her and she sent me off to do some of it away from the cave. When I came back she had—"

His voice cracked at some yet to be mentioned memory, and he sobbed for several minutes. One by one, Lucy and Susan moved to sit beside him and offer what comfort they could. The boys stayed seated, watching intently and waiting. Finally, Lord Highland pulled himself together, drew in a deep shaking breath and forced himself to continue,

"She—," he almost faltered again, but Lucy griped his hand.

"She had bludgeoned my-the King's-beautiful mare-she'd dismembered that beautiful creature-and she was letting her pack of mongrels tear her to sheds—I am sick with the memory of it." He shuddered deeply, near uncontrollable, until the tetrarch reassured him either with gestures or words. Then he continued,

"Well, she told me that I shouldn't worry myself about the horse—she said she had more beautiful ones, swifter ones—she said that one was nothing more than a broken down old plug—her voice dripped with such sweet honey that I let her convince me that what I was seeing—what was in front of my very eyes—was not true." He shook his head with wonderment at such a foolish thing.

"Anyway, I ate the lies right out of her hand, and I did many, many things for her. There was a search party sent for me in Archenland, but they didn't cross the border, and they found no trace of us—my family eventually returned to the Lone Islands without me."

"Well, the lady became so confident that I was under her spell—and she was quite right, I was—that she dropped any pretense of being beautiful—in fact, she was a hag."

"She dabbled in witchcraft and taught me some simple spells and encouraged me to practice them—she said I was gifted in the craft." He shook his head and shuddered, as if trying to shed his memories. "Of course, she also told me that she had the best control of me when I performed her spells but, of course, I didn't mind, because I thought I loved her."

"But, really, I wasn't so completely under her spell that I didn't, at times, long for home, and eventually, I did make a break for it. Surprisingly, I made it."

"Well, you can imagine the celebration that took place in Archenland when I showed up—and later in the Lone Islands—it was fantastic and I had a grand time. Of course, I didn't tell the truth about what happened to me. That was too shameful. I made up a story about being kidnapped by an ugly band of hags and forced to do slave labor for them—and about hating every second. They ate it up, of course, and I struggled with guilt forever afterward."

"Well, the years went by and life got back to normal. I figured that I'd put the past behind me—then the four of you came."

"Well, as you know, I was part of the delegation that was sent from the Islands to greet you all—and well, I fell in love with my new bosses—for the first time, I really felt free. I thought that since you four didn't know that part of my past, I could just live as though it had never happened, and I did, until—" He looked pained to go on, as if he'd ruin their goodwill if he told the rest.

"Well-," he spoke haltingly, as if trying to soften the blow for himself, "Well, on just my last trip here—when you sent me out to deliver that message to those little ones who were visiting from the Islands—I ran across the cave where I was enslaved for so long, and well, I took it into my head that you sent me there to remind me of that time—I thought that someone must have tipped you off, and I was deathly afraid—I thought I was about to lose everything that I'd worked so hard to get!"

"Well, as the stress of anticipation grew, I started looking for ways that I might be able to rectify the whole mess, and then, when you came to fire me, I'd be able to say that I had taken care of the bad me, and only the good me remained."

"I remembered a particular spell the old hag taught me, so I decided that I'd create a creature that would be the bad me—something I would have complete control over, and I'd be the good me—only I didn't have complete control over the Ape." Lord Highland bowed his head in embarrassment. "The only thing I seemed to be able to do was clean up whatever messes the Ape made."

"The Ape hurt Gawain's sister and the boy caught me, so I paid for her surgery and took Gawain under my care because I feared that he would tell. The Ape stole the heirlooms form the old widow, so I sent Gawain to return them. The Ape killed the horse, so I replaced it with one of my own. The fourth sighting—the one where the villagers saw the Ape—well, that was a lucky stroke for someone, I was only just coming out."

"The inquiries you sent frightened me witless—I figured you already knew and you were just toying with me. Then at some point, I realized that you _didn't_ know—but by then it seemed to late—you see, it really is true that the old hag has more control over me when I'm dabbling in witchcraft, and I couldn't make myself stop! Although, I like to believe I put up a fight, it seems all for nothing when the Ape popped up again."

Lord Highland looked up into the faces of the tetrarch for the first time that evening, and was genuinely shocked at the compassion and sorrow written on their faces.

For a moment, none of them spoke, but finally Edmund gathered himself for what needed saying, "It has been my experience," he spoke with deliberate slowness, weighing his words, "my _personal_ experience, mind you, that attempting to separate your good and bad sides by yourself will _never_ end happily."

Lord Highland understood what he was getting at, but he felt like he needed to justify himself, "Yes, Edmund, I wish I'd come to realize that many years ago, but if I may, you never—"

"Oh, but I did, Governor," Edmund interrupted in a frank voice, "oh, but I did. No one in this world deserved death more than I, and He forgave me—for all of it—and He's kept my path straight ever since. Surely you know that He can do the same for you."

Lord Highland puffed up, a little indignant, "But I'm strong enough on my own—I can handle this without the Lion helping me—I'm strong enough. Why all this time—"

"And where has that attitude gotten you for all these years?" Susan interjected, "Surely, you haven't forgotten the tale you just told us—why, you just told us all that your fight seems for nothing each time you've fallen to temptation. Why then do you continue to fight alone?"

"Yes," Lucy agreed, "Yes! There's Aslan, of course, He must be the main source, but you have the four of us too! We knew nothing of your dark history, and that pains me-I think it pains all of us—surely, you know that we care for you enough that we would help you though this—not throw you away."

"And how could you help, Lucy?"

"Accountability." Peter broke in to answer for her, "No doubt, you've spent many sleepless nights trying to run from dark thoughts, but wouldn't it be easier if you had someone—_four someones_—who you could call on when the nights are darkest? Personally, I love the idea. I think Aslan called us here because we are four together—no one of us could run Narnia by ourselves, but the four of us together are pretty unbreakable. Of course, if you throw Aslan in the mix, it makes five and no one can break _that_!"

Lord Highland looked down again, a little red-faced, but he still couldn't quite believe things could be fixed so easily,

"And what happens now? It seems to me that there is an awful lot of fixing to do—more than four, or _five_, can fix."

A smile slowly crept over Edmund's face. So, Lord Highland didn't believe things could be fixed, did he? Edmund couldn't wait to show him otherwise.

"First," he said, "I have three questions. Will you let Aslan show you how very easy it is for Him to clean you up?"

"Y-yes."

"Second, are you willing to ask forgiveness from those you wronged when you were the Ape?"

Lord Highland's mouth went dry and his eyes bulged, "Yes, but—"

"A yes will do." Edmund silenced him with a smile.

"And third, what did you use to transform yourself into the Ape?"

"There's a little box in a chest at the back of my room—full of vials—red liquid for turning me into the Ape and green for keeping me human."

Edmund heaved to his feet and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Peter called after him.

"Oh, come on, Pete, you know exactly where I'm going!"

* * *

It was over half an hour later, and the group in the drawing room still awaited Edmund's return. Peter was starting to get irked. He'd racked his brain to figure out where Edmund had gone, and hadn't come up with anything that would possible take this long. His patience was starting to run thin.

The door opened and Edmund walked in. Gawain, tousled hair and all, held one hand and trudged in a step or two behind. In the other hand, Edmund carried a small box. He gave his sibling's questioning eyes a baffled look, then smiled widely—if they hadn't figured it out by now, they'd find out soon enough.

"Sorry that took so long," he apologized, "Gawain here was sound asleep—go sit with my brother and sisters, lad."

Gawain trudged over and Susan pulled him into her lap.

"Now," Edmund began, as he set the box on the coffee table between the two couches and opened it to reveal the remaining vials of liquid. Lord Highland swallowed nervously and licked his dry lips.

"I've explained to Gawain about your story and told him about your desire for forgiveness and your willingness to change—I talked to him previously about the Lion wanting us to forgive those who wrong us—Gawain, will you take it from here, lad?"

"I-I" Gawain spoke a little haltingly. He had never done something like this before, and he felt quite grown-up; he wasn't used to that. "I-I'm willing to forgive you for hurting Daisy."

Lord Highland was shocked that a little child could do something that a lot of adults can't do, and Gawain's gesture made the Governor proud of the little boy,

"Ah well," he fumbled for words, "Uh-well, thank-you, lad, _thank-you_. I don't quite know what to say, but-but I-I want to-to try to go right from now on."

"Aslan will help you," Gawain nodded with confidence, "That's what King Edmund says."

"Yes, I believe He will, lad, but, ah, what's next for me?" Lord Highland looked nervously at the tetrarch.

Edmund stood again, and picked up the little box of vials, "Next, you throw the rest of this stuff in the fire—Aslan doesn't need any help setting us right. These are useless now."

"They seem to be useless before," Peter remarked.

Edmund handed the box to Lord Highland.

The Governor took the box and stared at the vials that he thought were his lifeline. He almost hated to toss them, but Peter's comment hung in his brain, so after a moment his regret began to lift and he started tossing vials into the flames—his resolve growing as each vial exploded and the flames leapt as if they were eating the accused liquid. As the last vial broke open in the flames, there was a loud blast, as if a Lion was roaring. The tetrarch smiled with the knowledge of His pleasure and Lord Highland, after a moment of fear, looked relieved.

The Governor sat back down, looking weary. Then he got pensive again. "And next?" he asked.

"If you'll agree to it, we'll—that you and I—go back to the Lone Islands," Edmund explained his plan, "as soon as your ship gets fixed," his dimples showed as he smirked good-naturally, "and we—again that's you and I—will stand before all the Lone Islands. Then, if you agree, you'll explain your story to all the company, and I will testify as to your words and actions in this council tonight, and then I will ask that each man, women, and child to forgive you, as they forgave me."

Fear flashed across Lord Highland's face for a moment; then he remembered that someone would be standing next to him, and resolve chased his fear away.

"Do you think they'll forgive me?"

Edmund smiled.

* * *

**A/N **Thanks to all my readers who have been sticking with me through this story.I apologize for any shock at the way the horse was treated. I didn't originally intend that, but it came to that point, and that seemed like a good way to further along the hag's badness.

**Upcoming stories to include**: "Screwtape on the Other Four". It's a companion piece to my story "Screwtape on the Pevensies". A prequel/sequel in which Screwtape advises the demons of Digory, Polly, Eustace, and Jill.

Also, "Screwtape After The Train Wreck". Another companion piece to "Screwtape on the Pevenises". This one will be Screwtape giving Susan's demon a pep talk and more advice.


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